


If You Go Down To The Woods Today

by solitaryjo



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: Billiards, Jealousy, M/M, Nudity, Picnic, Voyeurism, horse riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitaryjo/pseuds/solitaryjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Disclaimer: I know sod all about horse riding or billiards ;)</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onstraysod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onstraysod/gifts).



“Colonel De Lancey!”

De Lancey’s head shot up as he realised he hadn’t been paying attention to a word Lord Wellington was saying.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I asked you if the boots the men are so desperately in need of have arrived yet.” Wellington frowned. “Well?”

“I’m not certain, my lord.” De Lancey looked down and shuffled the papers in front of him, cringing inwardly as he imagined the disapproving glances he must be getting from the older staff officers. “I’ll have to go and check.”

His commander’s eyes narrowed. “Very well,” he said, “make sure you do.”

As soon as Wellington concluded the meeting with a brusque “Dismissed, gentlemen,” De Lancey started to follow the others out of the room.

A stern voice halted him in his tracks.

“Not you, De Lancey.”

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, prompting his friend Fitzroy Somerset to give a sympathetic shake of his head as if to say _rather you than me_ as he left the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

Wellington fixed De Lancey with an intense stare but after a few seconds his gaze softened.

“What on earth is wrong with you William?” He sounded genuinely concerned. He’d known De Lancey for a long time and had never seen him neglect his duties before. “Have you received bad news from home?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.” De Lancey sighed. He was telling the truth: For the last few days he’d been plagued by a growing sense of unease but he couldn’t put his finger on the source of his anxiety.

Wellington gave him a searching look. “Well you need to do something about it. You are one of my best officers, William, and you are my friend, but I can’t let this situation continue.”

De Lancey nodded mutely.

“You know what?” Wellington smiled as an idea occurred to him. ”The men can wait a few more hours for their boots. Why don’t you get out of here for a while? Go for a ride, clear your head.” He clapped De Lancey rather hard on the shoulder. “Get it out of your system, whatever _it_ is.”

De Lancey breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps his general was right. They’d been waiting around without any action for a long time. Maybe he just needed a change of scenery.

He inclined his head gratefully. “Thank you, my lord.”

 

Half an hour later, De Lancey walked his horse to the edge of the encampment surrounding the large house where Wellington had established his headquarters. He removed his hat and tucked it into one of the bags slung over the animal’s back before hoisting himself up into the saddle, digging in his heels and urging his mount into a canter.

As the camp fell away behind him, he breathed deeply and took in the view. It was a glorious day and he began to enjoy the sense of freedom, emptying his mind and focusing on the feeling of the wind in his hair and the motion of the horse beneath him as they galloped across the open countryside.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he felt the horse begin to tire, but when he pulled back on the reins and slowed it to a walk he found that he did not recognise the lie of the land around him.

“Sorry, old boy.” He leant forward and patted the horse’s neck. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

He brought the animal to a halt and cocked his head as he caught the sound of flowing water on the breeze.

“Ah,” he said, turning in the direction of a wooded ravine at the base of the hills that rose to the West. “Do you hear that? I think we could both do with some refreshment.” He dismounted and led the horse towards the trees, following a rough path that disappeared into the valley.

He could hear the stream somewhere off to his left but the woods were too thick for him to see how far away it was so he continued along the path, trusting that the reason for its existence was to provide passing travellers with access to a source of fresh water.

After a few hundred yards, the trees began to thin out and the unmistakable sound of a small waterfall became audible over the gurgling of the river.

De Lancey smiled at the horse. “I think we’re in luck, old boy.”

The path led to a clearing around a deep pool at the base of the falls, which tumbled down from an overhanging rock high above. As he reached the edge of the woods, De Lancey pulled up short, his soldier’s instinct alerted by a flash of red in his peripheral vision.

He looked closer and was astonished to see a scarlet coat and a pair of breeches folded neatly on a rock with a pair of black boots and a brown leather bag propped up beside them. Hanging on a nearby bush was a bedraggled shirt that had clearly been submersed in the water in an attempt to wash off some of the dirt, but not – from what he could tell - with much success. He looked around but couldn’t see the uniform’s owner anywhere until he heard a gasp and a head broke the surface of the water.

His eyes widened as he recognised the handsome features of Major Colquhoun Grant. It had been several weeks since he’d seen Grant around the camp and although it was perfectly normal for the exploring officer to be away for that amount of time, it had been longer than usual since they’d received any word from him.

Wellington had not seemed unduly worried by the lack of news, but De Lancey realised now that it had been the source of the disquiet at the back of his mind. He didn’t know Grant very well and hadn’t consciously been aware of missing him, but the major’s broad smile had become a reassuring feature of his daily life, like a warming flame that you don’t notice until its absence leaves you wondering why you are feeling so cold.

Grant had not heard the colonel’s approach over the noise of the falling water and was not looking in the right direction to notice anything amiss. As De Lancey watched, he swam lazily over to the far side of the pool and pulled himself up onto a rocky ledge, where he stood under the shimmering cascade and tipped his head back, letting the water play over his face and run down his naked body.

After a few minutes, he gave a contented sigh, stepped to the edge of the rock and dived back into the clear blue pool. He resurfaced a few seconds later and lay floating on his back in the warm sunshine, a look of blissful relaxation on his face.

De Lancey hesitated, trying to decide whether it would be best to announce himself as if he had just arrived or simply head back the way he’d come and pretend he’d never been there, when the decision was taken out of his hands. The horse, fed up with waiting for the drink it had been promised, suddenly made a dash for the water and he realised too late that his grip on the reins had loosened and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Grant opened his eyes in alarm as the animal approached the pool, cursing himself for being caught in such a vulnerable position, but his face relaxed visibly when he saw the colours and insignia on the saddle and he looked around with a puzzled frown, searching for any sign of the missing rider.

“Bugger!” De Lancey swore and ran after the horse, hoping it would look like he’d been chasing it through the woods and had just stumbled upon the clearing. The last thing he wanted was for Grant to suspect how long he’d been standing there watching.

“Got you!” he cried with a little too much enthusiasm as he caught up with the errant steed.

“Colonel De Lancey?”

De Lancey spun round as if he was noticing for the first time that he was not alone. The look of surprise on Grant’s face was almost comical.

“Major Grant!” he exclaimed, “Good Lord!”

Grant swam towards him until the pool became shallow enough for him to stand and then began to walk slowly out of the water. He paused briefly when it reached the level of his hips but just shrugged his shoulders and continued. After all, you couldn’t be a soldier in the company of other soldiers without foregoing all inhibitions when it came to the matter of bathing and it would not be the first time he’d been in a state of undress in front of a superior officer.

The upward slope of the bank accentuated the muscles in the major’s thighs as he strode towards the shore. The golden hair on his chest glistened in the afternoon sun and the drops of water running down his strong arms reflected the light in all the colours of the rainbow, creating an iridescent aura that was quite dazzling.

De Lancey gulped as he watched Grant emerge. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself, tearing his eyes away from the vision in front of him and searching for something to say that would not give away his reaction.

“Damned horse got away from me,” he blurted out, indicating the animal with wave of his arm. “Thank God it made for the river or I might never have caught it. But never mind me, what the hell are you doing here?”

Grant ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

“Long story,” he said as he made his way toward the rocks where he’d left his uniform. Taking a ragged cloth out of the bag, he dried himself off as best he could and bent down to pick up his breeches.

An involuntary whimper emerged from De Lancey’s throat as the sunlight glinted off the sheen of water on Grant’s arse. He swallowed and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of anything but his desire to run his hands over the firm flesh.

When he dared to look again, Grant had donned the breeches and was rearranging his shirt on the thorny bush.

“Hmmm,” he muttered, “that could do with a while longer.” He turned to De Lancey. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought any food with you, colonel? I’m famished.”

Grateful for something to divert his attention from the thoughts racing through his head, De Lancey replied with a smile, “as a matter of fact, I have.”

He’d intended to find a secluded spot and enjoy a bite to eat before heading back to headquarters and he saw no reason to change his plans just because he had company.

As he removed the blanket from his saddle and spread it out on the ground, a thought occurred to him and he looked up at Grant.

“Where’s your horse?” he asked.

“Ah.” Grant raised an eyebrow. “That would be part of the long story. To put it briefly, one of my contacts took quite a shine to him and I ended up trading him for a very interesting piece of information. I’m afraid that’s why it’s taken me so long to get back.”

“You traded your horse?” De Lancey was incredulous. “I doubt that will go down too well with Lord Wellington.”

Grant winked. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be happy enough about it once he sees what I got in return.”

“Care to show me?” De Lancey was genuinely intrigued and Grant’s easy-going manner was helping to restore his equilibrium.

“Oh no,” Grant chuckled, “I think I’ll save it for his lordship. My contact did give me this as well, though.” He reached into a crack between the rocks and drew out a battered looking wineskin. “The local vino,” he grinned, sitting down on the blanket and unscrewing the top of the container. “Not at all bad, considering.”

De Lancey joined him and set about unwrapping the bread and cheese he had retrieved from his bag. He laid it out on the ground between them. “Take as much as you want,” he offered, “you probably need it more than I do.”

Grant tipped his head back and squirted a stream of wine from the bota bag into his mouth, laughing as his aim wavered and the crimson liquid splashed onto his bare chest. “Good thing I didn’t put the shirt back on.” He passed the vessel to De Lancey, then tore a chunk off the loaf of bread and proceeded to wolf it down like a man who hasn’t eaten for a week.

De Lancey was pleasantly surprised to discover the light, fruity wine was the perfect accompaniment to their impromptu picnic. He lay back with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, feeling himself relax as the Spanish sun soaked into his muscles and the wine warmed him from within. For a few moments, all he could hear was the splash of the water and the birds singing in the surrounding trees and the war seemed a million miles away.

_This is actually quite a beautiful country when people aren’t trying to kill you,_ he thought, _I’d like to come back when this whole business is over and see it properly._

He felt himself drifting off to sleep and had half a mind to succumb to the drowsiness when Grant put a hand on his arm.

“We’d better get going,” the major said, standing up and retrieving his now-dry shirt from the bush, “I think I’ve kept Lord Wellington waiting long enough.”

They gathered up their belongings and set off through the woods.

“How far is it?” Grant glanced up at the sun as they stepped out onto the open plain, estimating that they only had an hour or so until it disappeared behind the mountains and hoping they would not have to make too much of the journey by the light of the pale new moon that had risen in the sky the previous night.

De Lancey shrugged. “I’m not sure. I took a rather circuitous route on the way out. I don’t think it should take too long if we stick to the tracks.” He stroked the horse’s nose. “Besides, this chap’s had a good rest. I think he should be able to carry both of us at least part of the way.”

He swung himself up into the saddle and shuffled forward as far as he could, holding out a hand and pulling Grant up behind him. It was a tight fit but neither they nor the horse would have to endure it for very long and it would be a hell of a lot quicker than walking.

“Hang on,” he said, and they set off at a gentle trot.

It didn’t take long for De Lancey to realise he’d made a huge mistake. Grant had put an arm around his waist to maintain his balance and he could feel the major’s chest pressed up against him and the whisper of warm breath on the back of his neck. Combined with the rhythmic gait of the horse and the effects of the heat and the wine, it was an intoxicating sensation that his body could not help but react to. 

He tried to concentrate on the task of guiding the horse along the rough track but as their destination began to come into focus on the horizon, it became clear that the problem was not going away. If he didn’t do something about it, he faced the prospect of riding into camp and dismounting in front of the men - and possibly Wellington himself - with a rather obvious bulge in the front of his breeches.

He brought the horse to a halt beside a small cluster of trees and turned to Grant with what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

“Call of nature, I’m afraid. Let me off would you?”

Grant extricated himself from the saddle and vaulted to the ground. He walked round to the horse’s head to take the reins, giving De Lancey the chance to climb down the other side and hurry into the trees before his companion noticed anything untoward.

As soon as he was out of sight of the track, he ripped open the fall of his breeches and wrapped the fingers of one hand around his aching cock.

Leaning back against a tree, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to savour the memory of Grant’s naked body. He pictured the major emerging from the pool and bending over the rock and fantasized about his hands roaming over that taut flesh as the other man sank to his knees in front of him and took him deep into his mouth.

His fevered imaginings soon brought him to the brink of release and he let out moan of intense pleasure as he climaxed, completely unaware that Grant had wandered away from the track to stretch his legs and was standing in the shadows, staring at him in disbelief.


	2. Chapter 2

Wellington smiled as he looked at the piece of paper in his hand. The information that Grant had brought him would prove invaluable during the upcoming campaign and was certainly worth the loss of one horse.

“Well done, major.” He shook Grant’s hand enthusiastically. “You must be hungry after such a long journey. Would you care to join me and my staff for dinner?”

Grant hesitated. He’d managed to regain his composure after what he’d seen in the woods and had been relieved when De Lancey had suggested that they walk the rest of the way but he wasn’t sure he could look the colonel in the eye quite yet. On the other hand, the meals that Wellington provided for his staff were said to be exceedingly good and he was still very hungry.

“I’d be honoured, my lord,” he replied.

The dinner was just as exquisite as Grant had expected and was accompanied by several bottles of a very palatable red wine. The staff officers were in a good humour and expressed their delight when Wellington informed them of Grant’s discovery, offering him congratulations and making sure his glass was always full.

Grant, however, found that he could not stop glancing at De Lancey out of the corner of his eye. The colonel was sitting next to Fitzroy Somerset and the two of them were leaning in towards each other and speaking in low voices, punctuated every now and then by a hearty chuckle as if they were discussing a private joke.

He felt a strange sensation gnawing at his gut as the thought occurred to him that the act he had witnessed may have been brought on by De Lancey’s anticipation of returning to the arms of a lover and that the recipient of the colonel’s affections may not be one of the local women but someone much closer to home.

His head snapped round when he heard his name mentioned.

“I beg your pardon, general,” he apologised, “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said splendid work, major.” General Murray beamed at him from across the table. “Although I don’t know how you do it, being out there on your own all the time. Don’t you get awfully bored with nobody to talk to?”

Grant caught sight of Somerset whispering something in De Lancey’s ear and the effects of the wine got the better of him.

“Not at all, sir.” He fixed De Lancey with a knowing look. “There are any number of things one can do to amuse oneself in the countryside.”

De Lancey choked on his wine as he realised what Grant was implying. The major had obviously seen more than he’d let on and was informing him in no uncertain terms that he did not approve. He glared back at Grant and shook his head, praying that he would not reveal any more, but Grant just raised an eyebrow and went back to his meal.

As they left the dining room, De Lancey pulled Grant aside.

“What was that about, major?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. If word got around, he would certainly lose the respect of the men, if not worse.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Grant replied, looking at the floor.

“You know very well what I ...”

He was interrupted by Somerset, who stuck his head out of a door further up the corridor and shouted, “Come on William, we need another for billiards.”

“Damn,” De Lancey muttered, then shouted back, “I’ll be right with you.”

As he turned back to Grant, intending to warn him to keep his mouth shut, he saw the way the major was looking at Somerset and suddenly realised that his earlier remark had been motivated not by disgust but by – of all things – jealousy. The thought sent a thrill through his body and he smiled to himself as he walked off up the corridor, calling back over his shoulder, “You coming, Grant?”

Grant was shocked. A second before, he’d been sure that De Lancey was about to reprimand him for his careless comment at dinner and an invitation to join the evening’s games was the last thing he was expecting. Despite the knot that formed in his stomach at the thought of watching De Lancey and Somerset together, he could not resist the urge to follow.

The game was already underway and several young officers were sitting around in comfortable chairs, watching the action or talking amongst themselves. Grant took a seat and poured himself a drink. It was rare for him to be included in such gatherings and he decided he would try to forget about De Lancey and make the most of it. This, however, proved to be easier said than done. Something had clearly improved De Lancey’s mood and he was in fine form as he showed off his skills at the table. In spite of his best efforts, Grant found it impossible to keep his eyes off him.

Somerset smiled to himself as he watched his friend line up a shot. It would obviously be a lot easier for De Lancey to reach the ball from a different angle but he’d taken up a position that required him to bend over the table right in front of where Grant was sitting.

_Typical William_ , Somerset thought. He’d known the colonel for a long time and they were too much like brothers for anything to have happened between them, but he recognised the signs of a new infatuation when he saw them and judging by the look in Grant’s eyes this one might actually be reciprocated.

De Lancey made the shot with a theatrical flourish and Somerset had to applaud as the balls did exactly as he’d intended and the game was won. Giving a little bow, De Lancey held the cue out towards Grant.

“Your turn, major.”

Grant looked surprised. “Oh no, thank you colonel,” he said, indicating his drink, “I’m quite content here.”

“Oh come on Grant. You can’t just sit there and watch all night.” Somerset winked at De Lancey.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can do, “ Grant responded sheepishly, “I never actually learnt to play.”

This pronouncement drew snorts of derision from some of the other officers, but De Lancey grinned at Somerset as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Well then,” he said, holding out a hand to help Grant up from his seat, “I’ll have to teach you.” He looked around and shrugged apologetically. “I fear this may take some time, gentlemen.”

Grumbling under their breath, the other officers left the room in search of more interesting diversions elsewhere. Somerset, however, remained behind. He could not resist the temptation to see what De Lancey was planning.

“Right,” De Lancey announced in a businesslike tone, “let’s start with the basics.” He twirled the cue in his hand like a baton.

“This is a cue stick ...”

Grant looked affronted. “I think I know that much.”

De Lancey rolled his eyes. “Do you want to learn or not?”

Grant shrugged. “Go on.”

“This,” De Lancey continued, rubbing his thumb slowly over the end of the stick, “is the tip, which is what you use to strike the ball.”

Somerset bit his lip to stifle a giggle as Grant’s eyes widened.

“And this,” De Lancey went on, sliding his hand up and down the cue, “is the shaft.” He somehow managed to keep a straight face in spite of the looks Somerset was throwing in his direction. “Which is what you use to control the power and direction of your shot.”

He passed the cue to Grant, who took it in something of a daze.

“You need to stand close up to the table with your feet braced slightly apart, thus.”

Grant tried to concentrate on the lesson and took up the suggested stance.

“Not that close.” De Lancey moved around behind Grant and put a hand on his hip to adjust his position.

“Bend this leg slightly,” he instructed, moving his hand to the top of Grant’s left thigh, “and keep the other straight while you lean towards the table.”

Grant did as he was told, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him or if De Lancey’s hand had lingered on his leg for just a little too long.

Seeing the look of hope on Grant’s face, Somerset leant back against the wall to watch the master at work.

“Grip the shaft about here.” De Lancey placed Grant’s hand around two-thirds of the way up the stick and covered it with his own. “And rest the tip on your other hand, like so.” He reached around to spread Grant’s fingers on the green baize and balanced the end of the cue in the crease between his thumb and forefinger. “Now line it up and make a couple of practice strokes.”

Guiding Grant’s movement, he slid the cue back and forth, pushing up harder against him each time he moved forwards.

Grant let out a soft moan and De Lancey looked over at Somerset with the glint of victory in his eyes.

“And when you’re ready,” he finished, “take your shot.”

As he felt De Lancey give a little thrust of his hips, Grant pushed the cue forwards with a lot more force that he’d intended, sending the ball flying off the table and clattering to the floor on the other side of the room.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure what had just happened but he was beginning to suspect that he was the subject of a joke between the other two men.

De Lancey chuckled as Somerset picked the ball up and threw it back to him.

“Not so hard, major,” he laughed, “you need to caress the ball, not smash it into the middle of next week.”

He replaced the ball on the table, indicating with a tilt of his head that it was time for Somerset to make his exit.

Somerset cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’ll find it easier without an audience.” He smiled encouragingly at Grant as he left. “He really is a very good teacher, you know.”

“Now,” De Lancey resumed, “shall we try that again? Perhaps I can find a better way to help you remember.”

He positioned himself behind Grant once more and renewed his hold on the cue, but this time his other hand was not on the table. Grant swallowed in anticipation as he felt the fall of his breeches being unbuttoned and gave a gasp when a hand slipped into the gap.

De Lancey leant in close. “First you grip the shaft,” he whispered as his fingers closed around the major’s swollen cock.

Grant groaned and let go of the cue, bracing himself against the table with both hands.

“Then you line up the tip.” De Lancey moved his hand along Grant’s length and brushed his thumb gently over the throbbing head.

“Yes. Good,” he said, letting the cue fall and using his other hand to turn Grant’s face towards him.

At the first touch of De Lancey’s lips against his own, Grant felt a jolt of pure need shoot through his veins. He returned the kiss with breathless intensity, feeling his cock start to leak as De Lancey kept up the rubbing motion.

De Lancey broke away and gave him a wicked grin. “Do you remember what comes next?” he teased.

Grant drew a shuddering breath and his hips jerked forward involuntarily as he managed to gasp, “Practice strokes?”

“Indeed.” De Lancey began to move his hand up and down Grant’s cock. “Once you get the hang of it,” he added mischievously, “you can even impart some spin to the ball by giving a little twist.” He heard Grant whimper as he demonstrated exactly how this might be accomplished and tightened his grip, increasing the speed of his strokes until he sensed that the other man couldn’t last much longer. His voice took on a low, guttural tone as he put his lips to Grant’s ear and delivered the final instruction.

“Then you take your shot.”

The words sent Grant over the edge and he spent long and hard into De Lancey’s hand, throwing his head back in ecstasy as he cried out, “Oh God!”

De Lancey put a hand over his mouth. “Shhh,” he urged, all too aware of the men in the rooms overhead. He pressed his mouth against the curve of Grant’s neck, savouring the taste of warm skin on his tongue and the sensation of the major’s pulse beating fast against his lips. He was struggling to control his own need for release and he stepped back to relieve the ache in his loins.

Grant turned to face him, his cheeks flushed and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked down at his dripping cock and the shape of De Lancey’s erection pushing against the fabric of his breeches.

“I’m not quite sure I got that, sir,” he murmured, his fingers moving to the buttons on De Lancey’s waistband, “I think I might need more practice.”

He licked his lips as he freed the colonel’s straining member and sank to his knees next to the table.

“Tell me, is it true that polishing the tip can help to improve your game?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know sod all about horse riding or billiards ;)


End file.
